


A moment with you

by Satine86



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Humor, Romance, Suggestive Themes, Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-21 05:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17636987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine86/pseuds/Satine86
Summary: Cassarric ficlets written for tumblr prompts





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: catching the other before they fall

Quick reflexes. Kinda went with the territory when you were a trained rogue. Varric was no exception. 

Which had helped him from eating shit at least a dozen times over since arriving in the Fallow Mire. Maker-forsaken place that it was. Squelching boots and mud and muck and creeping hands that would try to pull you into the murky waters if you drew too close.

It was horrendous. 

He also voiced that opinion. But so did the others, albeit a little more quietly. Still, Varric could tell it was wearing on everyone. So was the lack of sleep. It was impossible to relax or get warm or comfortable. Everyone was on edge, a little more careless than usual. 

Varric knew it was only out of sheer luck and those quick reflexes that were more habit than thought, that he saw what was coming before the Seeker did. Her boot heading right for a sinking patch of mud. 

He reached out like a flash, grabbed her belt before she at worse topped into the water and woke what was lying beneath the surface. Or at best lost her boot and ended up with a soaking wet sock. 

She yelped in surprise as he jerked her back and they teetered together, almost a dance, as they both gained their bearings again. By the time they were steady she had her hands on his shoulders, and his were on her waist and really all that was missing was a three-piece band. And maybe lose the smell of rot. 

There was a strained moment of silence before she cleared her throat, “Thank you, Varric.” 

“Anytime, Seeker.”

Then she patted his shoulder, somewhere between nervous and fond, and withdrew quickly. If Varric didn’t know any better he would have said there was a blush coloring her cheeks. Now that was interesting, and a little beguiling if he were honest. 

Maybe the Fallow Mire wasn’t so Maker-forsaken after all. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: caught in the act 
> 
> with guest stars Isabela and Merrill

“Where do you suppose he could be?” 

Isabela knew that Merrill didn’t really expect an answer, it was just a thoughtful question while they traipsed up and down the Viscount’s Keep looking for Varric before he missed his swearing in and Bran had a fit of some sort. 

Honestly, Isabela was curious to see how red Bran could get. Potentially redder than Aveline’s hair. 

“Well,” she drawled. “I have a good idea where he might be.”

“Oh?” 

“It’s no coincidence that he disappeared nearly the same moment a certain Lady Seeker showed up.” 

“You know it isn’t like that. Varric would have told us if it was.” 

“Are you sure?” Isabela waggled an eyebrow. “Just listen for a moment, kitten. We’ll see if we can follow the sound of thumping.” 

“Isabela!”

Cackling and ignoring Merrill’s mildly reproachful look, she pointed at a corridor. “Well, there is one place we haven’t checked yet.”

“Didn’t Bran already check to see if Varric was changing?” 

“That was early on. They could have found their way by now.” 

Merrill sighed. “Fine,” she conceded and marched down the corridor. Without knocking she pushed open the doors to the Viscount’s bedchambers that Varric had been occupying since he took up the “honorary” role, unaware it would soon become permanent. 

Whatever Merrill saw it was enough to make her yelp and quickly slam the door shut again, drowning out a myriad of curses -- some even Isabela hadn’t heard before, likely because they were in Nevarran. Merrill started shoving Isabela back down the hall. 

“I rest my case,” Isabela said, hands spread. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: first kiss

It happened after several conversations. Each one bringing them a little bit closer to a resolution. From the allusion of feelings, to the statement of fact. Laying out their cards on the table, as it were. Everything miraculously reciprocated.

It happened without any planning. A moment in time where everything seemed to stand still. There were was no crackling of the forges fire, no wind ghosting through the slats of the armory building. Nothing was it was it normally was. Even his presence there was an oddity, but quickly becoming a regularity. 

She sat in the chair next to the small, spindly table. Varric stood beside her, one hand planted on the edge of the table. It was meant to be casual. At ease. It had been, until the moment changed. 

Now he was more nervous than she had ever seen him. A rarity given he usual bravado and charm. Something about that put her more at ease. His eyes met hers, seeking an answer. Permission. 

It was inelegant, noses bumping and teething clacking. There was laughter and nerves, like they were nothing more than children figuring out how things worked. Indeed they were figuring out things worked for them. Trying again, his hand slipped behind her neck, his thumb resting against her jaw and gently keeping her in place. 

The second time it was sweet and soft and made her heart flutter like it was truly her first kiss. A long moment passed, his lips brushing hers while her hands found their way to his chest. Nothing awkward. Nothing worrisome. Only him and her and the start of something new. 

It was perfect. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: sharing a bath

Varric sank into the tub with a relieved sigh. It was good to be warm again. The Emprise du Lion had been a grueling experience, for multiple reasons, least of which was the fact it was so fucking cold. 

But the water was hot, and he was starting to get feeling back into his toes. Varric rested his against the lip and shut his eyes. He wasn’t aware of the door opening, or the sound of feet padding into the washroom. He was, however, aware when another body sank into the tub with him. 

Popping open one eye, Varric watched as Cassandra settled herself, her long legs stretching out until her feet rested beside to his hip. He gave her a lazy smile.

“Who invited you?”

“I invited myself.” She lifted her foot, flicking water at him. 

“If you can’t play nice I’ll have to ask you to leave.” 

“You would not dare.” She gave him a teasing a smile. “Besides, I would like to see you try to evict me, dwarf.” 

“It might be fun to try. A little wrestling match.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. 

She snorted, lifted her foot and flicked water at him again. “At least wait until I am warm again. Please.” 

“Let’s make a deal?” he said, resting a hand on her leg. 

“What is that?” 

“We never go to the Emprise ever again.” 

She laughed at that, head tilted back. “Deal. You can be the one to tell our dear Inquisitor.” 

“Fine, but I doubt she’s looking to come back anytime soon.”

Silence fell over them, both enjoying the warm bath and steaming rising lazily and filling the room. Eventually Varric broke it.

“Seeker?”

“Yes, my darling?” She lifted her head from the lip of the tub, brows raised quizzically. 

“About that wrestling match?” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "This will only take a second."

It was a lie.

It did not take ‘a second,’ as Leliana had so blithely said. It took many of them, piling up on end until they turned into minutes and those piled up and turned in hours and Cassandra thought she might actually lose her mind.

“Ow!” she cried, looking down at her hip.

“I beg your pardon Miss Pentaghast,” the seamstress said around a mouthful of pins, one of which had just jabbed Cassandra. “Perhaps if you could stand still this would go a little more smoothly.”

“Perhaps if you could get on with it…” she muttered under her breath. As quiet as she had been, Cassandra still earned a reproachful look from Josephine.

“It’s only a dress, Cassandra. This is hardly meant as a torture session.”

“Maybe not for you. I, however, am inclined to disagree. Ow!”

“Apologies, but I am nearly done.”

“Very well.” Cassandra sucked in a deep breath and did her best not to fidget, but after so long it was nearly impossible. She felt like a child when she had been fitted for court dresses, it was just as tedious now as it was then.

“It will be well worth it, Cassandra. I’m sure of it.” Leliana offered her a reassuring smile.

There wasn’t much she could do to argue with that, she supposed. Even if she wasn’t completely sure of that fact just yet. Right now the dress looked like a blob of fabric and she was hardly impressed.

It wasn’t until several weeks later when the fittings were finished and the dress was complete, and Cassandra joined Varric at the altar where he looked about ready to swallow is tongue, that she realized Leliana was right. It had been completely worth it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

“I am sorry that I yelled at you,” Cassandra said, but it was hardly sincere. He could tell exactly what it was: a platitude meant to smooth things over. 

To break the silence that had settled over them, not exactly awkward but hardly comfortable either. At least she wanted to clear the air, that had to mean something. Or so he supposed. Still, it would be easier to forgive her if she actually meant it. 

If she actually thought she had done something wrong. 

“And?” Varric prompted. 

She bristled slightly, like a cat. Though she reined herself in after a moment, and glanced down. She pursed her lips and swallowed. “And,” she said slowly, trying to get the words out, “I overreacted. I am sorry.” That time sounded a little more sincere and he figured they were getting there.

“All right. I accept your apology.” 

“And?” It was her turn to prompt him, eyebrows lifting. The action made it more into a demand. 

Varric didn’t want another argument, so he decided it was best to just concede the whole point. 

“I’m sorry I tried to steal one of the petit fours Josephine sent,” he said. She nodded, happy with the outcome and went back to carefully – and delightedly – picking confections out of the decorative box they had arrived in, her hand resting on her rounded belly. 

There was no point in arguing with a pregnant Seeker, after all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Will you just tell me the truth?"

It was funny how these things worked out, Cassandra thought. She had pictured the moment, imagined it in a myriad of ways in the past few days... yet the actual moment left something to be desired. 

She shifted her weight from foot to foot, her fingers twisting in knots in front of her stomach. Her currently roiling stomach, that felt as if it were full of hundreds of birds wings -- not butterflies -- flapping all at once. Cassandra hated how scared she was, how foolish she felt. 

Before her Varric sighed, his shoulders sagging as if he had the weight of the world upon them. She didn’t like that either. 

“Will you just tell me the truth?” he asked. “You, of all people, should be accustomed to it.” 

That stung, and she nearly flinched. Because he was right. She should be honest, she should tell him the truth. But how could she?

“I... I do not think I can.” 

“Cassandra.” He sighed again, this time in exasperation as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I think I’m beginning to put the pieces together, so let’s just spare both our nerves and drop it.” 

“Varric I--” 

“No, no.” He tossed his hands up. It was obvious to her that he was a little hurt, and she felt guilt well up. “It’s fine. I’ll just say it for you: you hated the new manuscript.” 

She winced. “It is not that I  _ hated _ it, dearest.” 

“You just didn’t like it.” 

Cassandra sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “No.”

He didn’t respond, just turned and walked out of the room, leaving Cassandra starting at his back in confusion.

“Where are you going?” she called.

“Back to the drawing board!” he called from the hall. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

In the distance his study door opened and closed, and Cassandra pressed her lips together. She didn’t say anything for further, partly because she wasn’t certain what else to say to soothe him. Mostly because she thought that was a very good idea, and she was certain  _ that _ was the last thing she should say. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Don't worry about it. Everyone screws up."

She spotted them outside the stables, the boy was hardly more than ten years old with dark curly hair and bright eyes. Cassandra stopped a few feet away, watching as Varric seemed to listen intently to what the child was saying. Although he was voice was so soft she could hardly hear.

“Hey,” Varric said. “Don’t worry about it, kid. Everyone scr–messes up sometimes.” 

“Even the Inquisitor?” the boy asked.

“Yeah, she’d be the first admit she isn’t perfect.”

“Even you?” 

Varric snorted. “I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve messed up. Sometimes it’s just how you learn. So don’t feel bad. Take it as a lesson for next time. Okay?”

That seemed to bolster the boy some, and he nodded in determination. He impulsively gave Varric a quick hug before darting off, presumably to put his lessons to good use. 

Cassandra walked to where Varric sat, taking the boy’s place beside him. If Varric was startled, he didn’t show it. 

“Seeker,” he simply said with a nod.

“You are good with the children. They like you.”

He shrugged. “I figure it’s nice to have someone listen. I know I would’ve when I was their age.” 

“I suppose I can relate to that.” Cassandra sighed sadly, then glanced at Varric from the corner of her eye and bumped his shoulder gently. “I know I am quite late, but if you would like someone to listen now….” she trailed off, let the offer hang between them. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He stood up, started heading toward the steps leading to the kitchens. Before he got too far he turned around, offering up a warm smile. “Cassandra?” he called.

“Yes?” she said, a little startled by the use of her name.

“That goes both ways.” 

She smiled widely at him. “I will keep that in mind.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I've made a huge mistake..."

Varric had made plenty of mistakes in his life. He could admit to that. Some were rather innocuous, others… decidedly more horrific. 

This, however, was probably the worst of the lot. While it wasn’t strictly his fault, he doubted that would have much effect on the obvious outcome: his imminent death.

The few seconds it took for the incident to occur, many things went through Varric’s head. First was the fact he was about to die. Also the fact he wouldn’t get to say goodbye to anyone back in Kirkwall. And a more sour thought was spared for all the unfinished manuscripts cluttering his desk drawers. 

He couldn’t say his life flashed before his eyes, but there were a few highlights that flitted through is mind. Fond memories with cherished friends and all that sappy nonsense. There was a sensory element as well. The feel of a tankard in his hands, the sound of a quill scratching against paper or the flutter of cards being shuffled. Daisy’s giggle, or Sera’s raucous laughter. The crackle of magic in the air and the smell of ozone, the clash of sword against shield. Late nights by the warm fire. 

A life lived. His life. Because it was about to end. 

“I’m sorry. I’ve made a huge mistake…” he trailed off, his throat dry and his eyes glued to the rather astonishing sight before him. 

“GET OUT, VARRIC!” Cassandra bellowed, scrambling to find a towel – or anything – to cover her naked form. 

That sent him into action and he quickly backtracked, slamming the door hard enough that it rattled on the hinges. Sinking back against the opposite wall of the inn, he tried to catch his breath. He absolutely was a dead dwarf once Cassandra found her clothes. But Maker what a parting sight.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Don't move, it'll be okay."

“Do not move. It will be okay… I think.”

“How will it be okay?” Varric asked, and tried to avert his eyes. Although that was difficult considering the pair of them were currently pressed together in a tiny alcove and no matter where he looked… the Seeker’s chest was right there.

Being a dwarf was a blessing and a curse.

“Orges are not known for their intelligence, Varric. And it has not seen us yet.”

Of course they would be caught outside camp unawares. Luckily she had spotted the crevice they were currently wedged into. Unluckily she was breathing hard, the adrenaline getting the better of them both, and her chest was rising and falling rapidly with each breath.

He swallowed. “So what’s the plan?”

“We remain quiet.”

“And,” he hissed. Varric wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted to escape more: the orge or Cassandra. All he knew was that he needed out.

“It will move on and then we can make a break for it.”

Wait it out. Great. 

Varric shut his eyes and tried to ignore everything around him. The orge. Cassandra, the fact he was pressed against her. Being stuck in a small space. It didn’t work.

“Now, Varric! Quickly!” As she spoke, Cassandra wriggled away from him – another unfortunate aspect of this whole ordeal – and grabbed his hand, pulling him along with her.

Then they ran in the opposite direction of the orge, careful to not draw too much attention to themselves. They ran all the way back to camp, and waited. Although it seemed they had completely escaped detection. Thankfully.

Once it appeared they were all safe, Varric didn’t speak to anyone. Cassandra included. Instead he found his bedroll, flopped down on it, and once again tried to ignore his thoughts. Mostly the ones about Cassandra.

Sadly, it didn’t work.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: "Stop it, you're embarrassing me."

“Varric Tethras!” the bellow was accompanied by stomping feet, and the door to his study bursting open. “You lying, deceitful no good–”

“Stop it, you’re embarrassing me.” He grinned at Cassandra from behind his desk. That response only darkened her scowl. “What, pray tell, seems to be the matter?”

“How dare you kill him off!” She marched up to his desk and plopped down the pages he had given her – half an hour ago? Maker, honestly? – “Things were just getting amicable between them and then you go and and do <i>that</i>!?”

Cassandra tossed her hands up and continued her tirade, imploring him to change the chapter right this instant while saying that she would wait until he fixed this most grievous error in judgement. And so on and so forth.

It was almost too easy to rile her up sometimes. Maybe he should feel bad? He didn’t, but maybe he should.

“Are you done?” he asked blandly when she finally sank into the chair before his desk, still glowering at him.

“For now,” she said.

“Good.” He pulled another stack of papers from his desk drawer and pushed them toward her. “Read that.”

She reluctantly picked up the pages and scanned them quickly. Then she gasped, eyes going wide as a smile slowly bloomed on her face. “He is not dead!?”

“No.” Varric shook his head.

“You are forgiven then.” She turned on her her heel to leave, nose already buried in her pages.

“No kiss of approval?” he called after her, a little sourly. Usually things like that earned him a kiss.

“Perhaps later. I need to make certain you have written this next part correctly,” she said and shut the door gently.

“Written cor–Maker preserve me.” He shielded his eyes with one hand and sighed. Of course he would fall in love with his biggest critic.  


End file.
